


smile like a mile (high)

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fear of Heights, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, heights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: Herah takes to high places like a bird.Cassandra does not.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Cassandra Pentaghast
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	smile like a mile (high)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweettasteofbitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/gifts).



"Come on up, there's nothing like it," Herah says, even as she sways in the wind.

"Absolutely not, and can you please come down from there?"

"Don't tell me it's not safe, Cass. It's perfectly steady."

"It isn't safe and you're not steady; the whole building pitches in the wind," Cassandra says. The whole cliffside feels unsafe, like the wind could pick up a little more and blow them all out to sea, and here's Herah on top of a mouldering building, dancing across exposed beams and mossy timbers like it's nothing.

She looks down at Cassandra from her rotting away perch and fixes her with doleful eyes. "Please? Come and see the view. The Storm Coast is the most beautiful place I think I've ever been."

It's dank and chilly and sombre -- Cassandra's second least favourite place she's ever been with the Inquisition, and only mildly better than the Fallow Mire. And yet, here's Herah, with the stars shining in her eyes, hair damped down across her forehead and horns misty with rain and positively radiant. It shouldn't work, but that's what Herah's proved herself to be over the last few months. Just a collection of things that shouldn't go together, together.

Blackwall relents first and heads up the ladder to see what all the fuss is about.

Cassandra can't tell which feels worse, the foreboding feeling that if she climbs up there, she won't be _climbing_ down, or the rancour at being outshone by Blackwall of all people.

When she makes it to the roof, carefully, and gets her feet about her, she looks out to the horizon. It's... a horizon. Cassandra supposes it's nice enough, but not significantly better than it looked from the safety of the ground.

Cole climbs up last and, for a boy who is mostly a spirit and must be seventy five pounds soaking wet, the roof creaks unnervingly under his weight.

Cassandra feels her heart drop out of her chest and through her boots just a moment before she feels Herah's arm snake around her waist.

"It's beautiful," Herah says, bending her head to almost whisper it to Cassandra.

"Yes, it's... yes," Cassandra says. Her pulse is pounding in her ears, almost as loud as the tossing surf far below them.

"I'm so happy," Herah says, this time definitely to Cassandra alone.

Here, at what feels like the top of the world, Cassandra feels too high, exposed, shaky, untethered... All things Herah would say too in her honey-sweet voice, lilting and smiling through the list of things that terrify Cassandra as if they're a list of positives.

Herah tilts her head, resting it atop Cassandra's and pulls her closer with the arm around her waist. They look out onto the horizon together and yes, maybe it's a bit nicer than from the ground. Clearer. Further. It's a moment, Cassandra thinks.

"Good," is all Cassandra can think to say. It is good, that somehow in all this chaos and war they're living through, Herah can find moments to be happy. Cassandra feels happy too, happy she found Herah in all this mess, happy for their friends and allies, happy for places that aren't a thousand feet above sharp, pointy rocks.

Another gust of wind makes the shack they're standing on groan mournfully. Cassandra's mind flashes helpful images of the four of them flying over the cliff's edge to the crashing waves, with bits of dusty hovel swirling around between them.

"We can go down now," Herah says after a moment.

 _"Good,"_ Cassandra says. She doesn't entirely trust the ladder either, but it gets them all down safely. 

"Better now?" Herah asks once they're walking down the path, away from the rooftop.

"Yes," Cassandra admits.

Herah kisses her on the top of her head and again on her cheek. "Thank you for that," she says. "Honestly. I know you're… not fond of heights."

"'Not fond' is an understatement. And you're welcome. My apologies if I seem… unenthusiastic."

"You can count on my same level of unenthusiastic following next time we have to go into an underground cave."

Cassandra snorts. "Are you under the impression I like the caves? And caves are the opposite of heights to you?"

"I distinctly remember you saying that the last time we were in a cave, 'this is a nice cave.'"

And like that, they're good naturedly bickering and grinning at each other, and all thoughts of plummeting to their deaths off rickety rooftops and barely functional ladders are gone.

When next they lapse into a comfortable silence, Herah scoops up Cassandra's hand in hers and swings them together. "You know why I like high places?"

Cassandra shakes her head. "Death wish?" she quips.

"Not really, I get enough of that in everyday life these days. No, it's that exhilarating feeling, like I'm flying. Like I'm on top of the world. You know when else I get that feeling?"

"When?" Cassandra expects an answer akin to 'battling a hundred demons' or 'closing a Rift with my eyes closed while dressed in my skivvies and nothing else,' because that's the risk-loving, tooth-and-nails person Herah is.

She ducks her head, hides a little grin. "When you smile at me."

Cassandra can't help it, she leans into Herah with her shoulder and beams. Herah tips her head back and laughs, beautiful and free.

"Yeah," she says. "Like that."

**Author's Note:**

> You all know the rooftop I'm talking about.
> 
> Thanks to Z for the beta and thanks to one of my cats for flinging herself off the top shelf of the cat tree and inspiring me to write an inquisitor who loves high places.


End file.
